I'm on the board of the Institute for Democratic Dialogue in the Americas (IDDA), a non-profit that runs the annual Model OAS in Washington DC, a simulation for college students from across the Americas. The IDDA executive committee agreed to subsidize my travel in June to Antigua, Guatemala, to attend the Organization of American States (OAS) General Assembly. The OAS, a kind of UN for the Western Hemisphere, recognizes IDDA as a "civil society organization," and has been encouraging more input into its deliberations from these organizations. So that's how I ended up in Antigua, attending the 43rd OAS General Assembly, convened to produce a "Comprehensive Policy against the World Drug Problem in the Americas."
As happens every time I return to Guatemala, I felt like I was just picking up where I left off, as if the months (or years) away had been a brief timeout from a life that is a fusion of Peace Corps volunteer, archival historian and quasi anthropologist, and gringo tourist. And as usual, the typical patterns of my Guatemalan life unfolded in different ways.
Calle del Arco, Antigua, Guatemala |
Mayan women celebrating Semana Santa Antigua, Guatemala |
3) One late afternoon I was again at the entrance, waiting for a bus to take me to another hotel where they would celebrate the formal inauguration of the OAS General Assembly. While standing there, trying to ignore a warm light drizzle, I saw a change of the guard--Guatemalan special forces. Two men, with impressive builds, berets rakishly askew, climbed out of a truck. Automatics slung over their shoulders, pistols on their hips, they angled my way. One began almost to swagger when he caught my eye on him. And I would have accepted his macho superiority were his finger not jammed up his nose.
4) So I finally got a bus to the inauguration--at the Hotel Finca Filadelfia just outside of town, another luxurious resort that I could only visit as an itinerate, obscure diplomat. Some young women--I guessed student interns, with blue blazers and yellow scarves emblazoned with the OAS logo, orchestrated our way onto the bus. One intern who got on last, upon seeing a senior diplomat standing in the aisle, glared at a fellow intern sitting near him. She told her, in a pleasant voice with an undertone of outrage, to get up and let "el señor" have the seat. The diplomat was now equally upset. "No, miss, never! I'm fine. I would NEVER force a lady to stand while I sit!" "I would die if I did that," he added in a loud mutter. There were some affirming noises, some laughter, and I was thinking "The man doth protest too much..."
K'iché Mayan Women at a clinic San Francisco La Union, Xela |
Anyway, this living statue was the set up for "el show" we were to see after what turned out to be stultifying inaugural speeches. I didn't stay to see the show, nor did many others, who probably had partying on their minds. Our bus turned out to be trapped in the Finca's byzantine parking lot. After pulling forward and backing up several times on one access road, the bus driver tried another, but after more forward and reverse, still no success. We were in purgatory, our punishment for leaving early. But someone must have prayed for us because, after 40 minutes of this, we finally found a way out, everyone cheering, the driver laughing. Another 40 minutes later I was back in my room, with two ultimately inedible slices of Al Macarone pizza, and a very drinkable Chilean red. I was indeed in Guatemala.
An example of the Guatemalan Ministry of Tourism's branding |
To me these sessions were remarkable displays of international diplomacy--the effort of people from a wide range of origins, with sometimes radically different agendas and interests, trying to have a useful conversation (and debate) about how to resolve collective problems. And I think the OAS made a good move in opening up this distinctive kind of venue at the General Assembly. Alongside the formal, protocol-laden deliberations between the nation-states of the western hemisphere, there is now an inclusive space for more free-wheeling debate among transnational organizations--a recognition of the shifting character of global relations.
Occasionally, it could get wild. At the first session a group of anti-Chavez men stood up and, amid applauses and boos, presented a list of complaints to the Secretary General regarding Venezuela's recent presidential election. Evidently, the Venezuelan government's OAS head delegate was on hand, because he was all of the sudden at the podium denouncing this group, while the young men tried to yell over his amplified voice. They ended up storming out of the session, followed by sympathizers, with others taking pictures or video of the near-relajo with their phones and iPads. Eventually the Secretary General got the session back in order (there are Spanish-language news report about this here and here).
At the next session, the Venezuelan head delegate apologized for intervening in a forum where all voices should be heard, but later, when a Guatemalan woman spoke out against family planning and same-sex marriage, a majority of the audience stood with backs to her while others cheered and clapped in support. But as soon as the woman finished her speech, the session was back on track, and again I was getting schooled in the multiple issues that complicate the creation of a comprehensive drug policy--from the standard debates over incarceration versus treatment, to the impact of illicit drugs on worker-management relations, and on to the ways current policies contribute to the "muerto civil" of social groups that already suffer discrimination (women, racial and ethnic minorities, the mentally ill).
I'm so glad for the opportunity to attend this event. I learned a great deal, and realized there's a great deal more to learn, not just about the drug issue, but about the incredible diversity in our hemisphere. And I'm grateful for the serendipitous surprises, mentioned above, that greeted me in Guatemala, whether amusing or trying. While my body is no longer as flexible as it once was when I first went there in 1984, hopefully they will keep my mind and heart that way.
An afterthought. Here's some Spanish-language TV coverage of the first civil society organization session (in repeated footage of the session about to end, I think that's me up a few rows on the right, with one leg out in the aisle, wearing light-colored khakis). The report sums up pretty well the principle bones of contention about drug policy but unfortunately doesn't get into what representatives of different civil society organizations had to say.
1 comment:
If I may respond tangentially, I like your long term multi-layered in time impressions of Guatemala. Something about the arc in Antigua especially set off nostalgia.
The death of Gabriel García Márquez revived my take on magical realism in Latin America. I indulge your blog to share some memories.
I had a reaction to a spider bite at your La Union home so took two benadryl and walked home in subdued consciousness. It was the height of the dry season, full of winds carrying dust in an ever gray to sepia landscape. I saw a woman in flowing bright red clothes approaching. I wondered if she were out of a dream.
In Colombia, on a quiet late afternoon in the Andean foothills, a small covered pickup stopped, a man got out, and removed several goats from the back. He walked away past several giant stone structures shaped like mushrooms.
Close by was my destination, a stonehenge-like set up in miniature. Walking home in the dark, I stopped to verify directions (admit it! in one of my famous shortcuts, I was lost again). I stopped at a home to get directions. The man of the house spoke good Spanish, but I could detect some accent. Turned out he was a Swiss national who immigrated to this isolated spot. Some day for novel experiences and sights.
I don't believe that I'm doing justice to magic realism. I hope to try another time, or maybe take more time and approach the subject like serious essays, because the magical difference so common in Latin America meant so much to me and I want to capture it again.
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